


One More

by edenbound



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Biting, Love Bites, M/M, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:07:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23476687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edenbound/pseuds/edenbound
Summary: Aziraphale is not the sort of person to stick at just one, whether you're talking about crepes or something else. It's always "just one more", with him, and allowing himself to be tempted into another, and another...
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 108





	One More

The bite marks on Aziraphale's inner thighs are the most pleasing, Crowley thinks. The ones on his neck are nice: anyone with sense will know just what kind of creature Aziraphale has been taking his pleasure with. He's never been able to quite keep his snake-nature out of it with Aziraphale, and fortunately the angel doesn't mind the snake fang lovebites, the scales under his hands when he runs them down the long lines of Crowley's body, the hiss that overtakes every other word when he's in the throes of pleasure. Anyone looking at Aziraphale can quite plainly see that he's _comprehensively_ taken, and by what manner of being, and that pleases the covetous greed in Crowley's demonic soul (such as it is: Crowley declines to go into the metaphysics of souls and who possesses them, and Aziraphale has his own very firm ideas).

Yeah, the marks on Aziraphale's neck are great. 

The way he tilts his head oh-so-innocently, the way he raises his chin to punctuate a point, as if he doesn't _know_ what he's advertising. He knows, his expression just slightly shy of _gloating_ to one who knows him so well, and Crowley loves it, loves him, with an ache that is physical and a little frightening, but exhilarating as well. He has something to lose now, something he _must not lose_ , and it electrifies everything. Six thousand years in the wilderness and now he has _this_.

So that's all good. 

But the secret bites on Aziraphale's inner thighs are better, because _Aziraphale_ covets them. Aziraphale wears them under his clothes with pride and wonder, refusing to ignore the sting and ache of them for a single moment. "One more, dearest," he'll say when Crowley's about to put his mouth to better use. Aziraphale's hand will be twisted tight in Crowley's hair, long enough at the front for him to take a firm hold, short enough that Crowley's considering growing it out to get _more_ of this. "Oh, just one more."

It's never just _one_ more with Aziraphale, whether it's crepes or lovebites, and it makes Crowley's blood _sing_. 

There's a customer in the shop, and Crowley is lazily considering doing something to scare them away -- make Aziraphale's job easier, so to speak, though personally Crowley considers Aziraphale's work on not selling books to be a work of demonic genius worthy of, well, himself. Across the bookshop, he catches sight of Aziraphale, who meets his eyes very deliberately and then shifts, squeezing his thighs together in a way that surely wakes up that last flaming red bite Crowley left on him the night before in a flare of pain-pleasure.

Crowley's not sure where his miracle sends the hapless shopper, but he's across the room in an instant, backing Aziraphale up against the desk and then onto it, making Aziraphale's legs spread to bracket his hips. "Tempter," he says, digging his fingers into Aziraphale's thighs, knowing just where to find his marks. Aziraphale's head falls back with a gasp.

"I learned from the best, my dear," he says, and Crowley leans in to give him a fresh new bite, a livid mark, like the love that has been a brand on both their souls.

"I'm going to take you apart," he says, breathless though he needs no breath, and Aziraphale's eyes are alight.

"Promises, promises." He slides his fingers into Crowley's hair -- disarranging it entirely -- and gives it a firm pull. Crowley is floating already, high on it, making another mark on Aziraphale's collarbone. "One more," Aziraphale says, just as breathless, and Crowley complies. One more and one more and one more.

Forever.


End file.
